Rita’s Book

This is the book that Rita had started herself. Her goal was to have it published by the time she was 18. She surely would have done it!

Instead we put it together with the help of Rita’s Uncle Stephen, keeping in mind Rita’s vision and what she would have loved.

We’ve been thrilled to share this book with so many people already, but we believe there’s a wider audience still.

It makes a special gift for a teenager. Rita was a voice for her generation. She was able to turn so much of the passion (whether angst or ecstasy) of being young, into art. We hope that it could inspire a teen to find a healthy way to express themselves, or just to comfort them with the knowledge that they are not alone. Rita was all about that.

And of course, anyone can appreciate the beauty of her paintings, photography, and poetry.
This book is the representation of a child, and a young woman and a joyful spirit who loved this world and everyone in it so very much.

We would love to donate copies of this book to youth groups, libraries, teens in need, happy teens, poetry groups… basically to anyone who might enjoy it or benefit from it.

If you would be interested or have a group you’d like to support with this gift or would like more information, please let us know. And please share this page and idea with anyone you think might be interested.

This is our way of continuing Rita’s legacy of caring for others with all the joy and love and creativity that she herself shared so effortlessly.

And now, here’s a sampling of Rita’s book.

The book pages are just scanned in, the quality of the book is much better.

“Red Moon on Wood”

There’s such a mystery to you

there’s such A MYSTERY to you
there’s a story in YOUR EYES
you let yourself seep through
yet there is something you HIDE
do you TALK WHAT you think
do you talk what YOU FEEL
TALK just to talk
or is your talk REAL

my thoughts, simply because i can
weird questions form a puzzle in my head
over and over droning on and on
thoughts get worn out
like that one thing left from your childhood
still there, yet somehow different
aged over time
rounded at the edges
the ticking clock sets pace for all things in my mind
all the thoughts i think, feelings i feel
what could be fake?
nothing
pure, untouched thoughts
trapped, not released in the world
not criticized or put down
not agreed with or complimented
images, words, sounds
zooming past in my brain
buzzing and revving
finally
passes out from exhaustion
is this my only chance at peace?
just to let them go?
not to find the answers?
oh no more questions I can’t answer
a cycle like this never breaks, unless forced somehow
but why force it?
that puzzle is me
to not complete your own self must be criminal!